


Conversations With The Devil

by ABadPlanWellExecuted



Series: Certain Dark Things [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: mild violence, references rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABadPlanWellExecuted/pseuds/ABadPlanWellExecuted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the Year That Never Was, an unexpected visitor arrives on the bridge of the Valiant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_*** 6:05 AM GMT, in the prisoner quarters of the Valiant ***_  
  
“So,” drawled Jack, speaking over the endless drone of the Valiant’s engines. “You here to bring me my breakfast of champions?” He flashed his undefeated grin at Tish.  
  
“Same as every day,” she answered quietly, setting the tray down and starting to spoon up Jack’s gruel.  
  
“Nah, not today,” he said. “Today’s the big day. Launch Day! Do you think everything’s ready? Has our Lord and Master got everything in place?” His manner was the same over-the-top, indomitable charm as always, but it didn’t matter–Tish knew what he was really asking.   
  
“I’m sure he has,” she said, but the pinch of her lips and faintest shake of her head told him the real answer.   
  
Jack swallowed the next spoonful, trying not to break character even as his mind raced. A year of planning, of mostly-fake escape attempts, of torture stoically endured, and in the end, it was all going to be screwed up by some stupid machine.   
  
What in the name of hell were they going to do now?  
  
  
 _*** 7:14 AM GMT, on the bridge of the Valiant ***_  
  
“He’s captured Martha.”  
  
Jack stopped walking abruptly halfway through the doorway to the bridge. One of the guards escorting him prodded him with his gun, but Jack ignored him and stared at the Doctor in his tiny, swinging prison. “How do you know?”  
  
The Doctor clutched at the bars of his cage. “He came to tell me himself. He’ll bring her here to kill her.”  
  
Jack grunted as the guard gave him a sharp jab to the spine. “Over there,” the guard barked. “Against the wall. No talking.”  
  
Jack took his place on the opposite side of the room. Neither he nor the Doctor really needed to say anything more out loud anyway. After a year of desperate planning and subterfuge, they had both developed the fine art of the silent conversation. Jack locked eyes on the Doctor.  
  
 _You know damn well what we have to do. What I have to do._  
  
The Doctor frowned and his eyes flickered away.  _But Martha…_  
  
 _Doctor._  Jack glared at him until the Doctor looked back.  _We’ve only got one shot._  He shot a meaningful glance at the device, that god-forsaken device, attached to the underside of the Doctor’s cage.   
  
The Doctor gave a single nod and closed his eyes against the apology he knew would be written across Jack’s face, an apology that he didn’t remotely deserve.   
  
It was entirely his fault. And Martha would likely pay the price for it.   
  
He should have known better than to try to press against the Master’s consciousness, looking for a niche, a crack, some entry that would allow him to heal the mind of the damaged Time Lord. If only he could help him, if only the Master would LET him help him… In the end, the temptation had been too great for him not to try.  
  
The Master had not taken kindly to the attempt, to put it lightly, and, after much unpleasantness, he had brought in a localized telepathic dampener. The machine had severed any mental links between them, but it had also severed the Doctor’s link with the Archangel Network.  
  
No link to the Archangel Network, and all the humans in the world could chant his name for days without it doing a damned thing.   
  
Now, Jack would have to make a desperate bid to try to smash the device, but not until the last moment. Everything would balance on a knife’s edge–act too soon, and the Master would be tipped off. Act too late and they’d miss the swell of psychic energy. Either way, Jack would certainly be killed again, and, far worse, he wouldn’t be able to shield Martha like they’d planned.   
  
There were so many ways it could go wrong.   
  
Their exchange was interrupted when the Master swaggered into the room, arms spread wide.   
  
“Well, boys, have I got a show for you today,” he said, clapping his hands together and taking the stairs up to the upper level two at a time. Pressing a button on the comm system, he asked, “Has our guest disembarked yet?”  
  
“Not yet, sir, but she’s on her way,” a voice squawked from the machine.  
  
The Master frowned. “I want her here by the countdown,” he snapped.  
  
“Yes, sir. There was a minor glitch with the Skylift’s levitation module, but it’s operational now. ETA’s in twenty-six minutes. In plenty of time for the countdown, sir.”  
  
“Good,” answered the Master. “And have the Jones family sent in before she gets here.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Stepping away from the comm-panel, the Master smiled down at his prisoners and drummed his fingers impatiently on the railing. “It’s almost time,” he said, sounding half-giddy. “Today, we will watch the dawning of a new empire. The launching of two hundred thousand ships to…”  
  
A chime rang on the comm system, interrupting him. He stalked over to the control panel and pressed a button. “What?” he snapped.  
  
“Sir, permission to bring a prisoner to the bridge, sir.”  
  
“Prisoner, what prisoner?” he asked. “Martha Jones shouldn’t be here yet.”  
  
“Identity unknown, sir. She was captured onboard the Valiant.”  
  
The Master paused, considering. “Torchwood?” he asked at last.  
  
“Negative, sir. Doesn’t match any existing profiles. She was armed with a gun and had a number of unidentified tech items on her person. We’ve scanned them; no weapons. We are conducting diagnostics on all essential systems but it doesn’t appear that she was able to sabotage anything.”  
  
“How did she get onboard?”  
  
“Unknown, sir.”  
  
“Hmm.” The Master waggled his eyebrows. “Mysterious. Well, I’ve got some time to kill before killing time,” he said, grinning. “Bring her on up. And bring the tech, too.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
The Master looked down over the stair railing, glancing back and forth between the Doctor and Jack. “So, is this a little surprise present for me?” He clasped his hands together in a parody of delight. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” But both his prisoners looked genuinely perplexed.   
  
The Master was mulling over the possible implications when the doors to the bridge room swung open. Two guards entered, one of them carrying a small black satchel. Between them walked a woman–a blonde woman in a blue leather jacket. They pushed her to the base of the stairs, directly below the Master.  
  
“The prisoner, sir,” said one guard, saluting. “She was detained on floor 38 near the aft crew quarters.”  
  
Meanwhile, the woman was looking around at her surroundings. “Huh,” she said, sounding vaguely put-out. “I think I liked the green better.”


	2. Chapter 2

The moment the woman came into view, the Doctor’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the floor of his cage, his shrunken hearts hammering. Impossible. There was no way that she could be here, but… But here she was, in the last place in the universe that he’d want her to be.   
  
Why couldn’t she ever stay put?! Why couldn’t she ever stay  _safe_?  
  
The Doctor saw Jack begin to gape and quickly shot him a glare:  _Say nothing._  No matter what, they couldn’t react, couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t say her name. Her life depended on it.   
  
He remained sitting, trying to pass off his fall as the result of exhaustion and extreme age. Fortunately, the Master seemed otherwise occupied, studying the woman before him.  
  
He stepped down onto the stairwell landing. “So, who are you supposed to be?” he asked, raking his eyes over her.   
  
The woman looked up at him thoughtfully. “I’m nobody. Who are you?” she asked. Ducking her head forward, almost shyly, she lowered her voice. “Are you nobody, too?”   
  
There was a moment of silence, and then she laughed. “Nah, I’m kidding you. Already know who you are, Harry. We’ve met before.” She exhaled forcefully. “Yep, definitely liked the green better.”  
  
The Master seemed momentarily at a loss. “What…” He shook his head. “What?”   
  
“The room, of course.” The woman shrugged as though it was obvious. “Last time we met, this,” she waved a hand around, indicating the walls, “was more… forest green. It was nice. A bit more super-villain, too. This, all the wood paneling? Looks a bit, I dunno, office space.”  
  
The Master stared at her. “You…broke onto my ship to criticize the décor?”  
  
“Nah, Harry, I’m just sight-seeing,” she answered breezily. “Thought I’d drop by to say hello.”  
  
“Nobody calls me Harry now,” he said darkly.   
  
“Ri-ight, you’re the new lord and master, yeah?” Her eyes stared directly into his. “ _Time Lord_  and master.” Then she winked at him and laughed again. “Don’t look surprised. Met you before, like I said.”  
  
“We’ve never met before,” he growled. “I think I’d remember you.”  
  
“Well, it wasn’t you-you,” she said with a shrug. “It was an alternate-reality-you.”  
  
The Master gave her a tight smile. “Whoops. Gave yourself away there.” He clicked his tongue, tsk-tsk. “Naughty girl–you didn’t do your research.” When she raised an eyebrow at him, he continued. “Time Lords are pan-dimensionally centric,” he said. “We are unique–we don’t have parallel selves.”   
  
“Yeah, I know,” she said, like it was obvious and maybe just a little bit boring. “But this wasn’t a true parallel. More like a…trans-temporal causality bubble, overlaying this reality.” She fluttered her fingers dismissively. “S’complicated. Anyway, point is, I got to spend two whole weeks onboard your ship. Funny how the paint color’s different, though,” she mused. “It’s really the little things that get to you.”  
  
The Master walked slowly down the stairs, pinning her down with his eyes. “Who the hell are you?” he asked when he reached the bottom.  
  
She looked at him as if seriously considering his question and tapped her finger to her chin. “Well,” she said slowly. “I guess if you’re gonna call yourself the Master…” She pursed her lips for a moment. “S’pose you can call me the Captain. Yeah, that’ll do.”  
  
The Master was still for a moment, and then he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His eyes were dark as he pressed a hand to her chest, the heel of his hand at her breastbone. His fingers spread out over the edge of her shirt, brushing the skin of her collarbone.  
  
Her lips curved. “My, my,” she murmured. “Bit early for that, isn’t it? Fast worker, you.”  
  
“One heart,” he spat, withdrawing his hand. “You’re not a Time Lord.”  
  
“Never said I was,” she replied lightly.  
  
He reached across her, deliberately leaning into her space to take her satchel from one of the guards. Sitting on the stairs, he opened it and examined the contents.   
  
“Well, look at this,” he said, glancing up at her with a little smile. “Nice toys you’ve got here.”  
  
“You’ve no idea,” she said, her expression copying his.  
  
“Time Agent?” he asked quickly.  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“And what are you going to do when I fry your little tech stash?” He lifted his laser screwdriver and twirled it between his fingers.  
  
She raised her eyebrows. “That’d be pretty brave of you, considering you don’t know what any of those things do. I mean, think about it: I know who and what you are. I tell you we’ve met before. But you don’t know me, don’t know what I’m capable of.” She licked her front teeth. “But why don’t you give it a try, Harry?” She grinned. “Might be fun to watch.”  
  
The Master scowled and dropped the bag. “I’ll take them apart later, piece by piece.”  
  
She shrugged, but her expression was a bit smug. “Probably a good choice.”  
  
During this exchange, Jack was trying to catch the Doctor’s eye. It had been so long since he’d seen her; was this normal? Was she crazy? What the hell was going on? But the Doctor’s face was a blank mask, and his eyes were riveted on the girl.  
  
Meanwhile, the Master was testing the waters with a few vaguely threatening statements.  
  
“Ugh. You’re not gonna make me watch the Teletubbies again, are you?” she complained when he suggested that she might regret this little visit. She leaned back against the conference table. “I get it: you’re impressed by the TVs in their tummies.”  
  
He smirked. “The height of human achievement,” he said, trying to bait her. But she just waved a hand, looking bored.   
  
“So you’re not a Time Lord and you’re not a Time Agent. You don’t work for Torchwood.” The Master tapped a finger to his lips. “UNIT?”  
  
“Well, I tried, but I never had the patience for all those little stitches,” she answered with a grin. “Kept losing count, had to unravel everything.” At his blank look, she rolled her eyes. “You knit…get it? Oh, fine, Jake and Mickey were right–it’s a bad joke.”  
  
The Doctor listened to her banter with the Master and bit down on his panic. The Master was toying with her, he was sure, but it wouldn’t last forever. She was hiding behind the shield of her audacity and her mystery, but once those were gone, the Master would kill her.   
  
Frankly, they’d be fortunate if killing her would be all he would do.  
  
But if she could just keep this up until the countdown, maybe he, the Doctor, would be able to save her. The Doctor could only plan that far ahead, couldn’t afford to think about what might happen after that, about the implications of her return.  
  
The Master seemed to be drawing some conclusions of his own. “You work for UNIT,” he said, this time not a question.  
  
“From time to time,” she said in a voice that was deliberately casual. She hopped up to sit on the edge of the table. “Not at the moment, though.”  
  
“Then what are you doing here?”  
  
She tilted her head and studied him. “Maybe I just wanted a chance to see a real Time Lord in the flesh again,” she said. “Since I hear you’re a pretty rare breed these days.”  
  
His eyes narrowed threateningly, but she ignored it. “I’d heard of another Time Lord who was supposed to go around saving the whole bloody world,” she said. “Called himself the Doctor, I think.”  
  
“Is that so?” The Master flashed a grin at her and walked over to shake the Doctor’s cage. “Well, he’s right here,” he said happily. “What do you think of him, the great hero?” He threw his arms out wide, but his sharp eyes never left her face, watching for her reaction.  
  
She slid slowly off the table and walked over to the cage. Leaning over, she peered inside at the small occupant. Her blond hair fell forward and brushed both the bars and the small hands that gripped them.   
  
For a moment, brown eyes stared into brown eyes.   
  
“Huh,” she said suddenly, breaking eye contact and glancing back at the Master over her shoulder. “Always figured he’d be taller.” She turned away, and the Master sniggered, unaccountably pleased. “What about him over there?” she asked, gesturing to Jack. “That another Time Lord? S’nice collection you’ve got going.”  
  
“No, that one is something…different,” said the Master, turning to curl his lip at Jack.   
  
As the woman stepped away from the cage, the Doctor saw a small, black object, shaped like a coin, flip through the air toward him. He snatched it, an automatic reflex, before it could fall to the floor of his prison.   
  
It was a micro-EMP chip. The kind of thing one might need to disable a small, local electronic device without causing much of a fuss.   
  
Oh, she was brilliant.  
  
“So,” said the Master slowly, “you claim you met me in this alleged, trans-temporal causality bubble?”   
  
“Yep,” she answered, absently running a finger over the edge of the conference table. “We got to know each other really well.”  
  
The Master stared at her, considering. “I don’t believe you,” he said after a moment. “The kind of phenomenon you are describing is impossible.” He gestured to a guard before turning to go back up the stairs. “Take her to a holding cell. I’ll deal with her later.”  
  
“I can prove it, if you want,” she said with a little smile. “Gotta little secret to tell you.”  
  
He paused. “And what’s that?” he asked, his back still turned.  
  
“C’mere,” she said. When he didn’t move, she rolled her eyes. “S’probably not something you want getting out,” she said pointedly, and, curiosity getting the better of him, he turned back around to face her. “It’s a very special little number,” she murmured before leaning forward and whispering something in his ear.  
  
He pulled back and frowned at her. “What’s so special about that?”  
  
“Don’t you recognize it?” Her tongue poked out between her teeth in a teasing smile. “That’s how many lives you have left before it’s game-over. How many times you can die before you stop regenerating.”   
  
He gave a startled jerk backward, but she continued as though she didn’t notice. “Coincidentally,” she said, examining a fingernail, “that’s how many times I’ve killed you.”   
  
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and her smile became sharp. “So, y’know, fair warning.”  
  
He stared at her for a long moment before turning to one of the guards. “You. Get me a set of restraints.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mild physical violence this chapter

The Doctor pressed the EMP chip against the floor of his cage. With any luck, the signal would be strong enough to fry the circuitry of the telepathic dampener. With more luck, the Master would be distracted enough to not notice any fluctuations caused by its destruction. Then it would be only a matter of reintegrating himself within the Archangel Network.   
  
He desperately clung to the hope that he still might be able to save everyone.  
  
Meanwhile, the Master was busy playing with his new toys. “Just got a set of these,” he bragged, holding up a black, single-piece arm restraint and waving it back and forth like a trophy. “And look, a perfect chance to try them out. So, are you starting to regret your visit now?” he asked with a smirk, clicking the locking mechanisms into place around her wrists and then attaching them to chains fastened to the wall.   
  
The woman stared down at the device restraining her arms, her face strangely blank. Then she began to laugh. “No,” she chuckled, “I think I’m right where I want to be, thanks.” She sounded ridiculously amused.   
  
The Master looked her over and made sure she was secure. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said dryly.   
  
“I withhold not my heart from any joy,” she said, still chortling. “That’s good Bible authority for you, Harry.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “‘Be sober, be vigilant,’” he quoted darkly back to her, “‘because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’”  
  
“Nice one,” she said with an appreciative grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
“Now I’d like a few answers, if it’s not too much trouble.” He leaned back against the conference table.  
  
“What do you want to know?”  
  
He looked at her as though she were being obtuse. “The answer to life, the universe, and everything,” he said sarcastically. “What do you think?”   
  
“Hmm,” she said, nodding seriously. “Well, I know one thing. The greatest thing you’ll ever learn…”  
  
He raised his eyebrows.  
  
“…is to love and to be loved in return,” she finished with a cheeky smile.   
  
“Deep,” said the Master dryly, and she tipped her head in acquiescence. Across the room, the door slide open and Lucy walked in.  
  
“Oh,” added the woman in restraints, suddenly caustic, “and don’t marry crazy women. That’s also important.”  
  
Lucy approached the Master with habitual caution. “Harry, is everything ready?” she asked tentatively.  
  
The woman curled her lip at the Master’s wife. “Lucy,” she muttered. “Great. That’s just…completely…great. Worst bloody human in the universe,” she added loudly.  
  
The two blondes stared at each other, the eyes of the one in blue shooting daggers at the one in red.  
  
“Harry, who is she?” Lucy asked.  
  
The Master ran his hand down his wife’s back. “No need to worry…” he started to say, only to be interrupted.  
  
“Better run, Lucy!” called the woman with a fierce smile. “Run fast as you can! ‘Cause me? I’m the big, bad wolf,” she said, her eyes wide and wild, “and little girls in red dresses? I eat ‘em for breakfast!”  
  
Lucy recoiled. “Harry,” she said plaintively, stepping back in alarm.  
  
“That’s right, run!” the woman shouted, and the chains that held her clattered as she took a step forward, and Lucy stumbled back. “‘Cause if I don’t getcha you know that he’ll carve out your heart and eat it in the end!”   
  
Lucy fled up the stairs.  
  
The Master ignored his wife. “Who are you?” he asked, seeming mystified.  
  
She cocked her head to one side, her feral grin fading. “How about a trade, Harry–I’ll tell you my real name if you tell me yours.”   
  
“That’s…” He pinched his lips shut and shook his head. “You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate, and anyway, that’d hardly be a fair trade.”  
  
She shrugged. “You dunno, do you? Can’t know till you hear it.”  
  
“I’m a Time Lord,” he said, his voice laced with arrogance. “My name has powers you can’t possibly…”  
  
She interrupted him with a snort. “Right. Time Lords. Pan-dimensionally centric,” she muttered. “More like pan-dimensionally EGO-centric. And you all think you’re Rumpel-bloody-stiltskin.” She rolled her eyes. “Like if anyone finds out your TRUE name, they’ll own you forever or something. But, see, here’s the secret, Harry,” she said, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “I don’t know what your real name is, but the name you pick?  _The name you give yourself?_  Now  _that’s_  power. It’s like handing your enemies a bloody gun.   
  
“I mean, think about it” she said, nodding toward the cage. “That one calls himself the Doctor? Because he needs to fix things, heal people, solve problems, yeah? So what do you do? Lock him up and make him watch while you set the world on fire.” She shook her head with an indulgent smile. “S’like he gave you a how-to book on torturing him or something.  
  
“Now you,” she continued, “you call yourself the Master, ‘cause what you need is to be in control.” Her eyes flicked up to stare into his. “‘Cause that’s what you lack, Harry. Control.” She smiled, a sharp, feral expression. “By the way, been meaning to ask–how’re the drums?”   
  
She clicked her tongue, a four-beat staccato rhythm of madness.  
  
“Stop it,” he snarled and back-handed her across the face with enough force to snap her head back. The violent sound of flesh on flesh rang out across the room.   
  
She raised her head up again, her tongue touching the now-bloody corner of her mouth. “Yep,” she said, grinning. “Handing me weapons left and right.”  
  
The Master stared at her. “Well, what about ‘Captain?’” he finally spat out. “Need to be a leader? Need to be in charge?” He took a step closer to her. “So to break you, I make you…subservient?” He smirked.  
  
She shook her head. “Nah, see, that’s the thing. I didn’t pick that name–it was given to me by my team, ‘cause of the things I do, not the things I need. It’s not what I wish I could be. If anything,” she added with a sigh, “I miss the days of having someone to follow.”  
  
He leaned toward her. “Oh, I could help you with that,” he said suggestively.   
  
She gave him a look of disgust. “I meant someone  _worthwhile_  to follow,” she said, the special emphasis making her implication clear.   
  
He slapped her again.   
  
“Oi, d’you mind?” she asked, annoyed, as she sucked on her injured lip. “Eurgh. The taste of blood always makes me nauseous.” She spat on the floor and glared at him.  
  
The Master paused and looked at her, considering. “You’ve had training,” he decided. “Military ops. Taught you how to stand up under torture.” When she just smirked at him, he reached into his jacket. “Well,” he said, pulling out his laser screwdriver and holding it up for her to see, “let’s see how well you do with this.”   
  
Across the room, Jack swallowed as he realized what the Master had in mind. Oh, he knew the setting well–it had been developed and tested on him, after all, fine-tuned until it didn’t leave a mark. The perfect instrument of torture–no injury, just pain. He frantically looked to the Doctor while the Master’s back was turned, hoping he’d have a plan to save her–they couldn’t let her be tortured, not  _her_ – but the Doctor’s eyes were closed. In fact, he looked like he was meditating again.   
  
 _What the hell?_  
  
The Master was leisurely adjusting the settings on his screwdriver. “I think we’ve played long enough. I’ve got something of a busy schedule today, you know,” he said. “Now, I have some questions for you, and I want them answered. But first,” he grinned, “here’s a little taste.”   
  
He pointed the screwdriver at her stomach, and she let out a shriek. But before he was satisfied that she knew what was in store for her, her cries died down and began to seem more and more faked.   
  
“Ooooh, ouch, oh, no, Harry, no more,” she said, sounding bored by the end. “Please, anything but having your little hand torch pointed at me. Really, fate worse than death, this is.” She rolled her eyes.  
  
The Master frowned at her and then checked the setting. “I don’t understand,” he muttered, pointing it at her again. Nothing. He slapped it against the palm of his hand.   
  
“Yeah, well, mysterious me,” she said, amused.   
  
The Master frowned and pointed the screwdriver at Jack, who let out an agonized scream. “It’s working,” he said, ignoring Jack’s pain. “But not on you, it seems,” he said as he tried it oh her again.  
  
She shrugged. “Why don’t you just go ahead and ask your questions anyway?” she suggested gently. “We’ll just pretend that I’m in terrible pain, yeah?”  
  
“Who the hell are you?” he growled.  
  
“Already told you, the Captain,” she said. “What, you want another name for me, Harry? Hmm,” she paused, considering. “I’ve got a couple others, I s’pose. Been called the Valiant Child. Will that do? Though maybe I’m too old to be called ‘child’ anymore. Anyway, the, uh, bloke who called me that was kind of a git, really.” Her lips twitched. “Actually, that’s something of an understatement.”   
  
“That’s not a name,” he said tersely.   
  
“No? How ‘bout Plus One? Defender of the Earth? Priestess to the Lonely God? Half of the Stuff of Legend?” She wrinkled her nose. “The last one’s a bit pretentious, though. C’mon, Harry,” she said impatiently, when he still looked perplexed. “Surely you’re getting it by now?”  
  
“You’re playing with me,” he said slowly. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”  
  
She shrugged. “You’re bored,” she said. “And I’m entertaining. You won’t kill me ‘till something more fun comes along. Still got,” she lifted her eyes to the clock on the wall, “a good eight minutes or so before then, right, Harry? There’s a lot you could learn in eight minutes,” and she smiled, teasing. “Lots of things I could tell you. Maybe if you ask nicely.”  
  
“I’m asking you for your name,” he growled slowly.  
  
She looked thoughtful for a moment and then leaned forward in the restraints, staring into his eyes. “D’you know what they call me in the ancient legends of the Dalek home world?” She paused for effect and licked her upper lip. “The Abomination.”   
  
The silence in the room was palpable until she broke it by giggling. “Blimey, I’ve always wanted to say that. True story, though.”   
  
The Master stared at her. “You’re…” He closed his eyes, wrinkled his brow. “What?”  
  
“Course, I did give myself a name once,” she mused, ignoring his confusion. “But you don’t want to hear it. You’re too thick to understand what it means, anyway. Nah, the name you want is the one my mum gave me, right?” She smiled. “I’ll tell you now, if you want.”  
  
He waited.  
  
“My name’s…”  
  
“No!” shouted the Doctor and Jack together.  
  
“Rose,” she finished. “Rose Tyler.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: threat of non-consensual sex

The Master’s face was unreadable. “You’re Rose Tyler.”  
  
“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “I see you’ve heard of me.”  
  
“Oh, this is too good,” he breathed, his mouth curling into a smile.  
  
“It’s like Christmas came early, yeah?” she said with a wink. “’You want to break him? Amateur. I could do things to him you could only dream of.”   
  
He looked her up and down, raking his eyes over her body speculatively. “I could fuck you,” he said thoughtfully. Behind him, the cage rattled furiously–the Doctor was shouting something unintelligible–and the Master grinned in delight.  
  
But Rose rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’d be really original. Thought you were supposed to be clever.”  
  
The Master’s eyes narrowed. “I could kill you,” he growled.  
  
She shrugged. “You could try,” she said skeptically.   
  
“You,” he said, after a moment of silence, “you looked into Time Vortex.”  
  
“I did,” she confirmed.  
  
“Do you…” He cleared his throat. “Do you hear them? The drums?” He reached forward and gripped one of her shackled hands, tapping out a rhythm on her knuckles with his thumb.  
  
Rose looked into his eyes and saw there, for just a moment, something more than the cruelty and madness.   
  
“No,” she said gently. “I remember hearing music, like singing. No drums.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”  
  
The Master’s eyes stayed locked onto hers and his lip curled back into a snarl. “All that power,” he rasped, letting go of her. “You had all that power right in the palm of your hand. You could have done anything.”  
  
“I did plenty.”  
  
“Yes,” he agreed darkly. “The power of the Time Vortex, in the hands of a human. Sickening.” He turned away. “The Daleks were right about you. Abomination,” he spat.  
  
Rose raised an eyebrow. “Bit rich coming from you,” she said, the compassion gone from her voice. “You were the one supposed to get rid of the Daleks, right? S’why the Time Lords brought you back?”  
  
When he whirled back around in surprise, she shrugged. “Don’t look so shocked. Like I said, I had to listen to you talk for two bloody, boring weeks. And you told me plenty, Harry. Poor lonely Time Lord, all alone in the Universe, no more of your kind to talk to, and no Doctor to lord it all over, either. Just me, one of the Doctor’s old companions. So you told me all about how you saw the Dalek emperor take control of the Cruciform and about how you ran away, right to the end of the universe.” She snorted. “Coward.   
  
“I’ll tell you what, though,” she continued, leaning forward again and lowering her voice. “Yeah, I looked into the Time Vortex. I drank in all that power like it was wine, and I used it to take the Daleks apart, atom by atom. I  _unmade them_ , right out of existence.”   
  
She leaned back again. “See, Harry? You don’t have to be scared of the big purple octopus anymore.” She smirked.  
  
He lunged at her and grabbed her by the arms. “I should just kill you right here,” he rasped, shaking her.  
  
“That’d be a bit of a waste,” said Rose calmly. “Besides,” she added as the doors swung open and the Jones family was escorted into the room, “you have other business to deal with right now. Bigger fish to fry, yeah?”  
  
His fingers tightened on her arms, and his nails bit into her flesh, but she didn’t wince or look away, and finally, it was him who broke the eye contact as a chime sounded from the console. “Looks like it’s show time,” Rose said softly.  
  
He glared back at her. “This isn’t over,” he muttered as he let go of her and turned to stalk toward the staircase leading up to the upper level.   
  
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she said agreeably. “At least not yet. Though, if you don’t mind…” She stared down at the restraints for a moment and then gave a sharp shake with her wrists. The manacles snapped open and dropped to the floor.   
  
“Ha!” she shouted, sounding elated. “Can’t believe that worked.” She stepped forward quickly and took a seat at the conference table.   
  
At a shout from the Master, the two guards who had escorted her in approached her with their guns raised, and she rolled her eyes even as she lifted her hands into the air.  
  
“You really shouldn’t bother, y’know,” she said. “S’not like I’m going anywhere, Harry. Promise.”  
  
“Just…keep her there,” snapped the Master to the guards. “I’ll deal with her later.” He leaned over to answer the call from his head of security.  
  
Martha Jones was now onboard.  
  
***  
  
Rose understood that part of the Doctor’s brilliance wasn’t just his, well, brilliance, but also his ability to bring out the best in those around him. She had seen it first-hand a thousand times before, in Jack, in Sarah Jane, even in Mickey. Still, it was something to watch Martha Jones–the woman who’d spent a year walking the Earth alone on the Doctor’s behalf–stand on her own two feet and stare down the Master.   
  
 _Damn_ , Rose thought.  _She’s good_.  
  
And it was a beautiful thing to watch Martha play her trump card, even as the Master scoffed at the power of hope and prayer.  
  
“Just one word…but with fifteen satellites,” said Martha, and the Master’s sneer dropped away.  
  
“What?” he asked, drawing back.  
  
“The Archangel Network,” said Jack, smiling darkly.  
  
“A telepathic field binding the whole human race together with all of them, every single person on Earth thinking the same thing at the same time, and that word,” said Martha triumphantly, “is  _Doctor_.”  
  
And as people all over the planet began to chant that name and the Doctor began to glow with psychic energy, Rose leapt to her feet.   
  
“Doctor,” she whispered along with Martha and Jack and everyone else in the control room. Everyone else in the world. “Doctor!”  
  
It was the same thing she repeated in her head every time she got into the Dimension Cannon.   
  
Nice to see it actually working, for a change.  
  
As the Doctor rose up in all his glory and disarmed the Master, Rose edged around the table and picked up her satchel. She checked her watch as the Doctor and the Master disappeared using Jack’s old wrist unit, and she sighed, even as the room was thrown into chaos. One last thing to do.  
  
It was almost time to go.  
  
 _*** 8:02 AM GMT, at the Master’s Shipyard***_  
  
The teleport brought them to the edge of a cliff overlooking the Master’s fleet of ships. The Master threw back his arms in dark triumph. “Now it ends, Doctor!  _Now it ends_!”  
  
“We've got control of the Valiant!” shouted the Doctor. “You can't launch!”  
  
The Master smiled. “Oh, but I've got this,” he said something out of his jacket. “Black hole convertor inside every ship. If I can't have this world, Doctor, then neither can you! We shall stand upon this earth, together, as it  _burns_!”  
  
The Doctor stared at the remote activator, and something savage twisted inside him, because, nobody,  _but nobody_ , was going to burn any planet that  _she_  was standing on.   
  
( _“That makes things…simple. Very, very simple…”_ )   
  
He fought to keep his expression neutral, however–he knew better than anyone that there was more than one way to skin a cat.   
  
“Weapon, after weapon, after weapon,” he rasped, walking slowly toward the Master. “All you do is talk, and talk, and talk. But over all these years... and all these disasters, I've always had the greatest secret of them all.” He took another step forward. “I know you. Explode those ships, you kill yourself... and that's the one thing you can never do. Give that to me.” He held out his hand.  
  
The Master’s expression slid from exultation to resignation as the Doctor called his bluff. He handed over the remote. But as he did, he caught a glimpse of wild happiness in the Doctor’s eyes.  
  
“You think you’re going back to  _her_ ,” he hissed. “Your little human pet.”  
  
“You’re one to talk,” muttered the Doctor, not looking him in the eye as he pocketed the remote. “How’s married life been treating you?”   
  
The Master smirked. “But that one’s not safe, not like my Lucy. Doesn’t stay where she’s put; doesn’t do as she’s told, does she? How long, Doctor,” he asked slyly, “before it’s your heart she eats?”  
  
The Doctor’s eyes snapped up to meet his, dark and terrifying.  _Dark and terrified_.   
  
One corner of the Master’s mouth curved up in satisfaction. “Because that’s what will happen in the end,” he said softly, viciously. “One way or another–isn’t that right, Doctor?”  
  
They stared at each other in silence.  
  
“Maybe,” the Doctor finally answered. “But,” he said with certainty, “she’s so worth it.”   
  
Suddenly, the ground shook beneath their feet as the paradox broke, and they both fell. Scrambling, they fought for control of the teleport device. As the Master activated it, the Doctor grabbed hold, and they were both yanked back to the bridge of the Valiant.  
  
With a laugh, the Doctor grabbed Martha as she pitched forward into his arms. “Everyone get down!” he yelled gleefully. “Time is reversing!” He grabbed her hands, and they both dropped to the floor, clinging on for dear life.  
  
Once the shaking stopped, the Doctor leapt up. “Paradox is broken,” he announced, checking the flight instruments. “We’ve reverted back. One year, one day. Two minutes past eight in the morning. See?” He activated the radio. “Just after the President was killed but before the spheres arrived. Everything back to normal. Planet Earth restored. None of it happened.”  
  
 _None of it…_  
  
He looked around suddenly. “Where’s Rose?”  
  
Martha stared up at him in confusion. “Um, Rose?”  
  
“The girl,” said the Doctor impatiently. “The blonde girl. That was Rose. She was here before.” When Martha didn’t react, just continued to stare, he shook his head. “But you must have noticed her.”  
  
Just then the Master took off running toward the door, only to be caught at the threshold by Jack.   
  
“Whoa, big fella,” said the Captain, grabbing hold of him.  
  
“Jack,” said the Doctor. “Where’s Rose? Is she with you?”  
  
Jack blinked at him in surprise. “Rose? Um, Doctor…” He shook his head. “Are you all right?”  
  
“Jack, you saw her,” said the Doctor frantically. “She was here.”  
  
“Doctor,” said Martha gently, “Rose is in a parallel universe. You said so yourself. Remember?”  
  
“That’s right,” said the Master, suddenly speaking up, his face all innocence. “There’s been nobody here but us.”  
  
“But you saw her,” insisted the Doctor. “You spoke with her!”  
  
“You know, I think maybe this past year has damaged your mind, Doctor.” The Master grinned crazily, his eyes dancing. “Shame about that.”  
  
So really, when all was said and done, there was a part of the Doctor that wasn’t all that fussed when Lucy finally broke down and shot her husband.


	5. Chapter 5

_***9:26 PM GMT, in the Sidmore-Amos Rock Quarry***_  
  
As the Doctor lit the funeral pyre, he kept waiting for some sense of relief to wash over him, something to take the place of all this overwhelming darkness. But as he watched the body of his childhood friend burn, there was nothing but pain. He had destroyed Martha’s life. He had put Jack through hell. He was alone again in the universe, the last of his kind.   
  
And Rose…magical, void-crossing, Master-sparing, quotation-quoting Rose… Well, Rose was still lost.  
  
There was also the small possibility that he was losing his mind.  
  
He turned and walked slowly down the path leading back to the TARDIS, where Jack and Martha were waiting.   
  
And then he saw her, standing there on the path ahead of him.   
  
 _Rose._  
  
“Hello,” she said softly, raising a hand in greeting.  
  
The Doctor stopped, still several meters away from her. “So, am I officially hallucinating now?” he asked out loud. “Well, it’s been a hell of a year, so I suppose I’m allowed a little break from reality.”  
  
“You’re not hallucinating,” she said, but her voice was sad.  
  
“No? Are you sure?” he asked, his voice deceptively even. “Because, in my experience, non-hallucinatory people don’t tend to vanish into thin air. Also, other people can remember seeing them, too. Plus–and again, it’s been a very long year–but I’m fairly certain that you are trapped in a parallel world, never to return.”  
  
“Never say ‘never-ever,’” she said with a little smile. “And sorry about the disappearing act–I couldn’t risk staying when time was about to reverse. Doctor…” she walked forward, closing the distance between them. “I really am here. But,” she added quickly, “I can’t stay. Not yet.” She raised a hand to stroke his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Rose,” he whispered brokenly, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. “Rose.”  
  
“My Doctor,” she sighed, and suddenly, frantically, he pulled her to him with shaking arms and buried his face in her hair.  
  
“Rose,” he gasped. “How the hell are you here?”  
  
“Well, it’s sort of a long story,” she said with a half-laugh against the fabric of his coat, squeezing him back. “The short version is that we’ve built this machine. We’re calling it the Dimension Cannon. Lets you travel across parallel universes.”  
  
“What!” The Doctor pulled back. “No, no, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Rose, you can’t. You’ll damage the fabric of reality.”  _You’ll get yourself killed._  
  
“I have to,” she said calmly.   
  
“I can’t let you,” he said, gripping her arms.  
  
“Doctor,” she said quietly, placing her hands gently on his chest and looking into his eyes, “you can’t stop me.”  
  
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Rose softened. “Look,” she said, “we’re not damaging reality, I promise. I’m traveling along cracks that are already there. And we’re very careful not to enlarge them. That’s part of why the darn thing is so hard to steer.” She sighed. “But, Doctor, you need to understand–there’s something coming, something bad, and unless I do this, well…” she trailed off.   
  
“Tell me,” he commanded. “What is it?”  
  
“I can’t,” said Rose firmly, shaking her head. “Doctor, I can’t. There are things that are supposed to happen in the timeline, and I can’t risk changing them around. We’re pretty sure if we can just get me to the right point in space and time, we can fix it. Until then, I can’t tell you and I can’t stay.”  
  
“But you think you can just jump into my timeline and out again,” said the Doctor harshly, shaking her a little. This wasn’t how he wanted to speak to her, wasn’t how he wanted to _be_  with her, but it had been a terrible year, and he was a little closer to the edge than he realized. “You’re already changing things, Rose. You’re part of events now, and if what you say is true, then I already know more than I should. I thought I taught you better than that,” he snapped, and then immediately regretted it when he saw the spasm of pain that flickered over her face before she schooled her features back to calm again.   
  
“Why do you think Jack didn’t remember me?” she asked coolly, pulling back. “Why didn’t Martha?” She turned away from him and walked back up the path. Leaning over, she picked something up–the satchel from the Valiant. Rose opened it and fished out a small, black device that looked not unlike an old-fashioned tape deck.  
  
“Here,” she said, walking back and handing it to him. “Take a look.”  
  
The Doctor flipped it over in his hands. Yes, it really did look an awful lot like an old tape deck. He hit the ‘eject’ button, and a small cassette door popped open. He raised an eyebrow at Rose.  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” she said impatiently. “But have a proper look at it. Maybe get out the sonic?” she hinted.  
  
The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his coat and scanned the device. His expression shifted from skepticism to enthusiasm, and suddenly, he looked ten years younger. “Oh, but this is amazing,” he said at last, admiration coloring his voice. “Genius, really. A partial cross-orbital neural scanner, focus on the hippocampus, dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, and the parietal lobe. Specially directed to erase short-term memories, yes?” he said, glancing at Rose for confirmation. She nodded.  
  
“But what’s really brilliant,” the Doctor continued, “is that it is targeted specifically at memories relating to a particular individual. And I suppose that answers the question of why Jack and Martha don’t remember you and now think I’m losing my mind.”   
  
“Yeah, sorry about that. I wiped everybody’s memories once you disappeared with the Master. Gotta preserve the timelines and all.”  
  
He turned it over again and raised an eyebrow at her, grudgingly impressed. “Did your Torchwood really manage to build this?”  
  
“No,” she said with a small smile. “You did.”  
  
The Doctor gaped at her.  
  
“I should probably mention,” said Rose, “that this isn’t the first time we’ve bumped into each other. Also, that this little device has a special setting for Time Lords.”  
  
The Doctor tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry. “How many times?” he finally managed. “How many times have we met?”  
  
Rose looked at him sadly. “Too many,” she said. “Best and worst part of the whole mission, running into you but not getting to stay. But the memory machine doesn’t work the same on you as it does on humans. It just suppresses the memories. I can recall them for you once I finally get to the right time and place.”  
  
The Doctor frowned. “But I can do that on my own,” he said. “Suppress a memory, just as if I needed to prevent a paradox. Why would I build a machine to do it for me?”  
  
“Well,” said Rose a little reluctantly, “you said it would be more streamlined this way–less chance of memory leakage. Also, you seemed to think that maybe you would be a little…let’s say,  _resistant_  to having your memories suppressed.”  
  
“What! Well, that’s just silly,” he argued. “Of course I’d listen to you if you said it was important.”  
  
“Yeah, but the you who built it hadn’t met younger-me yet,” said Rose. “Believe me, it took me hours to convince him. You.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Forget all the traveling and dimensional jumps,” she muttered. “Just the grammar involved in this is enough to do my head in.”  
  
She reached out and took the device back from him, giving him a wry smile. “Y’know, it’s pretty obvious Torchwood didn’t build it–it’s not a bit flash, no blinky lights or anything. Only you’d build the most powerful ret-con device ever out of some old tape deck that you dug out of a cupboard in the TARDIS.”  
  
The Doctor didn’t appear to be listening. He was staring at the device in her hand. “Not yet,” he said desperately, reaching out a hand to stop her. “Please.”  
  
“What?” she said, staring back at him. “No, no, I wasn’t going to just zap you with it.  _Not you_. Not yet.” She pulled it free from his hands and tucked it into the satchel. “Actually, I was hoping I could talk with you for a bit. Here,” she said, reaching for a hand and tugging him off the path, “let’s sit where we won’t be spotted if Jack or Martha comes looking for you.” She led him down a dusty side trail and found a secluded spot in the quarry with a large enough chuck of rock that would do for a bench. She sat down.  
  
“Come join me?” she said, patting the space next to her.  
  
The Doctor hesitated. “You know, we could go back to the TARDIS,” he suggested. “There’s comfy couches and everything.”   
  
 _Come with me._  
  
In the darkness, he could see her suddenly go still. “I think maybe it’s best if we avoid that temptation,” she said softly. “Let’s just sit down here.” When he still didn’t move, she pleaded. “Please, Doctor. I…I need your help.”  
  
With a sigh, he collapsed onto the rock next to her. “Never could resist that,” he muttered, and in the darkness, he could sense a smile growing on her face.  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s true,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I need your advice. S’like I told  _him_ ,” and she paused to swallow. “There’s this trans-temporal causality bubble that’s sitting right on top of this universe. And it’s blocking our access to the true universe–every time we try to get at the right point in space/time, I end up in the false parallel. When we try to sort of sneak around the edges of it, I end up getting shunted off to either too early or too late in your timeline.” She lifted her free hand and placed it over their joined ones. “Do you have any idea what might be causing it?”  
  
He was silent for a long moment. “Were you really on his ship for two weeks?” he asked at last, and he could feel her tense up.  
  
“Does it matter?” she asked and started to pull her hands away.   
  
He tightened his grip. “Rose, he tortured you,” he rasped. “ _Does it matter?_  What kind of idiotic question is that?”  
  
She sighed. “It wasn’t really like that,” she said.  
  
“Tell me,” he demanded.  
  
“Doctor,” she protested and then blew out a breath. “Fine, I’ll tell you. It wasn’t that bad.”  
  
“Tell me,” he repeated, gently this time. His hand loosened its grip on hers so that he was holding her fingers rather than crushing them.  
  
“When we target the Dimension Cannon,” she began, “we use as much info as we can get. And part of that isn’t just your timeline; we use the location of the TARDIS, too.” She scrunched up her forehead, just like she used to do when she was thinking things out.   
  
The Doctor reached his free hand forward to ghost his fingertips over their joined hands.   
  
“It’s sorta like navigating by triangulation, I s’pose,” she said. “Anyway, in one of the first trips to the false parallel, the Cannon locked onto the TARDIS, which was on the Valiant, even though you weren’t there. I got caught before I could initiate a return jump, and that was that.”  
  
“Rose,” he growled and then paused. “Wait, why was the TARDIS there if I wasn’t?”  
  
He heard her breathing hitch. “‘Cause you’re dead,” she said softly. “In that universe, you’re dead. You died under the Thames fighting the Racnos.” She trembled, just a little, at the memory and then seemed to shake it off. “That’s how I knew it wasn’t real,” she said firmly.  
  
“It wasn’t real,” he agreed, lifting her hands to press a kiss against her knuckles. Then the Doctor frowned. “But if I was dead, how did the Master get the TARDIS in the first place?”  
  
“No idea,” she said. “But he had it, and he knew you were dead. There weren’t any of those metal death balls flying around, either.”  
  
“Rose,” he murmured. “Did he…did he…”  
  
“He didn’t hurt me,” she said, a little too quickly. “He mostly just wanted to talk, like I said. Well, and he wanted me to talk. He didn’t know anything about the end of the Time War or what happened to the Daleks. We had plenty to chat about.” She shrugged. “And he was bored, so the trick was to make everything a game, like I did with him today. He was lonely, I think. He liked to flirt,” she added. “In a sort of creepy, sadistic way. But he didn’t really torture me or anything.”  
  
“Rose, he tortured you today.”  
  
“Doesn’t count as torture if it doesn’t hurt,” she said lightly.   
  
“And why didn’t it hurt?” he asked through gritted teeth. “ _What have they done to you?_ ”  
  
She regarded him for a long moment. She didn’t have to ask who he meant.   
  
“Lots of Lumic’s research fell into Torchwood’s hands after we stopped the Cybermen,” she said quietly. “He had all sorts of different tech for dealing with the human nervous system–not really much of a surprise, considering what he had to do to build them.” She tugged her hands free, reached behind her head, and lifted her hair off her neck. “I’ve got a chip, just here,” she said, pointing right at the base of her skull. “It can filter out pain signals as necessary.”  
  
The Doctor looked horrified. “Why?”  
  
She dropped her hair and reached for his hand again. “Because it hurts,” she said softly. “Crossing the void without a capsule. But I can adjust it at will. Usually, I leave it off in between jumps.”  
  
“How could they…” he ground out, shaking in anger. “How dare they?”  _How dare you?_  
  
He didn’t think he could bear the idea of her being altered.  
  
“The thing is, Doctor, if we don’t dare, everyone dies.” She gave him a small smile. “Remember? And it’s removable,” she reassured him. “Once everything is sorted, I’ll have it taken out. Until then, well, it’s a small mercy, really.”  
  
“Rose,” he said, closing his eyes and pulling her to him, “why can’t you just stay safe?”  
  
She leaned into him, indulging in a little cuddle for a moment. “Seems like I could ask the same of you,” she commented, pressing her cheek against his chest. “God only knows what _your_  time on the Valiant was like. I really wasn’t expecting to walk in and find you all tiny. That,” she said with a shaky laugh, “was a bit of a surprise.”  
  
“Well,” said the Doctor, leaning back again. Withdrawing from her. “Doesn’t matter now. So,” he said, all business. “What do you need help with?”  
  
Rose sighed, but she knew him too well to expect him to talk about his own past pain. “D’you know a woman named Donna Noble?” she asked.  
  
The Doctor looked surprised. “Donna? Yes, I met her once.” He frowned a little. “Why does it matter?”  
  
Rose bit her lip. “I think you’re supposed to travel with her,” she said. “Like I said, the Dimension Cannon can measure timelines, and we’re getting all sorts of weird readings from hers. I think she’s part of that whole causality bubble, but we haven’t quite figured out how to straighten it out yet. D’you have any idea what might be causing it?”  
  
The Doctor ruminated. “Well,” he said at last, tugging at one ear, “it could be that something has redirected her timeline in order to feed of its residual temporal energy.”  
  
“Like what?” asked Rose. “What would do that?”  
  
“There are a few different creatures that disrupt timelines. Encountered some not that long ago, actually,” he added. “Although this sort of phenomenon wouldn’t be caused by the weeping angels. More like something that makes a subtle change in a person’s life. Meetings never made. Children never born. A life never loved.”  
  
He took her hand once again and let his fingers wander softly over the contours of her palm, tracing the length of her fingers.  
  
“And that’s what creates a false parallel?” she asked.  
  
“Normally, no,” said the Doctor. “Usually, the universe compensates for the difference. But if her timeline is connected to mine, well, it gets more complicated.”  
  
“You’re telling me,” said Rose under her breath. At a look from him, she said, “Doctor, I have a whole team of people whose job it is to track your timeline. ‘Complicated’ doesn’t do it justice.” She blew out a breath. “Just thinking about the maths involved gives me a headache.”  
  
He grinned at her, and shifted his fingers to measure the diameter of her wrist.  
  
“So what do I do about this creature?” she asked, watching the movement of their joined hands.   
  
He thought about it. “You’ll probably need to go back into the parallel. Try to redirect the action that caused the causality split. The creature may be on her person somewhere, but you won’t be able to see it because it doesn’t really exist in that reality; although, there’s a possibility that you’ll be, well,  _aware_  of it, what with all the time traveling you’ve done.”   
  
He continued talking, giving her an overview of the temporal mechanics involved, and as he spoke, their hands gently shifted over one another, clasping and unclasping, relearning every hold until at last she stopped him.   
  
“That’ll probably do. Besides, don’t think I can remember anything more,” she said with a sigh. “What can you tell me about Donna herself?”  
  
The Doctor ran his free hand over the back of his neck. “We-ell,” he said slowly. “Donna was great. Brilliant, really. Loud,” he added, thoughtfully. “A bit…loud at times. I did ask her to come with me, actually, but she said no.”  
  
Rose nodded. “Maybe you should ask her again,” she suggested.  
  
The Doctor snorted. “I never ask twice,” he said. “Well, present company excluded,” he added with a smile when Rose grinned at him.   
  
“Well, one way or another, I think you’re going to end up with her,” she said.   
  
“Something to look forward to,” said the Doctor vaguely. “Or not, I suppose,” he added, thinking of her memory-wiping device.  
  
“About that,” said Rose slowly. “It’s probably time for me to…”  
  
“Not yet,” he said quickly, tightening his grip on her hand. “I still have questions for you.”  
  
They sat in the darkness in silence for a moment. The night was cool and a little damp, and the air smelled of the rock dust of the quarry and the wood smoke from the Master’s pyre.  
  
“Are you trying to think up a question?” asked Rose gently when the silence had gotten too heavy.  
  
“What I want to know,” said the Doctor, ignoring her query, “is how you knew to bring the EMP chip?” He turned to face her in the dark. “Surely you can’t gauge timelines that accurately.”  
  
“Ah,” said Rose with a smile. “Now that is a funny story. Same way I got out of the handcuffs, actually.” She tugged her hand free from his and bent over, lifting the satchel onto her lap.   
  
“Been training with Houdini?” he enquired with a smile.  
  
Rose caught her tongue in her teeth, grinning as she fished out the manacles from the Valiant. “Told him, didn’t I? It’s the name you give yourself that’s got the power.” She pulled out a small hand torch as well, flipped it on, and directed the light at the restraint.   
  
“See?” she said, tapping at the manufacturer’s logo.  
  
The Doctor peered at it and then blinked in surprise.   
  
 _Bad Wolf Restraints, Inc._  
  
“Maybe I should buy stock in that company,” mused Rose. “Sort of a rubbish product, though.” She chuckled.  
  
“Oh, you’re kidding me,” breathed the Doctor.  
  
“Nope,” she said. “It pops up every now and again, actually. It’s on the EMP chip, too,” she said, pulling it out to show him as well. “It was just sitting there, out of the blue, with the rest of my kit when I was getting ready for today’s jump. So I figured I was headed somewhere special.”  
  
The Doctor examined it. “Well, that’s certainly, er…ominously reassuring?” he mused, handing it back to her.  
  
She laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. Actually, it’s come in handy. One of the first jumps I did, I ended up on this alien planet–no idea which one. Totally deserted and sort of…Mars-ish, I guess. It was all sort of coppery green, and the air was sort of orange. I start choking, right, ‘cause the atmosphere’s not really human-friendly, and I can’t jump out because the device takes a bit to charge back up.”   
  
She was talking animatedly, happy to share one of her adventures with him once again, so she missed the shadow that passed over his face.   
  
“Anyway, I look up, and there it is, carved into this rocky hillside:  _Bad Wolf_. Just written there, plain as day. So I stumble forward, and I see this cave right below it, but it’s low, so I have to duck down to get in. Inside, it opens up so I can stand up, and I turn on my torch, and there, trapped inside, is this little pocket of breathable air. And I could see it, ‘cause the rest of the atmosphere is thicker and, like I said, more orange. But the good air was so high up that I had to tilt my head back to breathe it. And there, scrawled into the rock on the ceiling right above me was this whole set of complex equations. So I sat there, nothing to do but stare at them for the whole thirty minutes while the return jump charged up, and when I got back, I copied them down right away. Turns out, they were the key to making sure the Cannon’s only targeted at habitable locations.”  
  
She grinned at him. “Isn’t that wild?” she asked. “Mind you, it took me a week to scrub the orange off my skin. The tabloids all thought I’d run afoul of some horrible spray tan.”  
  
“Do you mean to tell me,” said the Doctor in a voice that was far too calm, “that before that little incident, you could have ended up anywhere in time and space?”  
  
“Well, no,” said Rose slowly. “Only places where you’d been.”  
  
“Only places where I’d been,” he repeated, his voice sounding more like a growl.  
  
“Well,” said Rose nervously. “In theory.”   
  
“In theory.” He tightened his grip on her hands. “Rose, what the hell were you thinking?”  
  
“Doctor–”  
  
“You could have ended up floating through space!” he yelled. “You could have ended up in a star or a black hole or trapped in the Void. You could have ended up in the bloody Time Vortex, Rose!” He grabbed her shoulders, eyes wild.  
  
“I don’t have a choice!” she cried. “I have to risk it! And it’s not even me taking the risk to save other people! It’s everyone I’m trying to save–everyone, everywhere, do you understand? Me included!”


	6. Chapter 6

  
They stared at each other, his fingers biting into her shoulders. 

“You’re just gonna have to trust me, Doctor,” she said quietly. “You do, don’t you?” When he didn’t answer, just tightened his grip, she lifted a hand to his chest. “Please.”

The righteous anger seemed to drain out of him, enough so that Rose felt more confident in continuing. “And ‘sides,” she said, “at least we know I’ve got Bad Wolf keeping an eye on me.”

The Doctor snorted. “Yes,” he said sarcastically, “it’s not like that’s never almost gotten you killed before. I feel so much better.” He turned away and leaned against the stone wall at his back.

They sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So,” said Rose at last, trying to change the subject to something a little less incendiary. “Martha seems nice.” She said it in a casual sort of way. Maybe just a little too casually. Actually, as non-inflammatory conversation topics went, this probably didn’t fit the bill.

“She is,” said the Doctor lightly. Just a little too lightly. “Very nice. Absolutely brilliant, Martha. She saved the world, this past year.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Rose bracingly. “Defending the Earth. Cheers to Martha.”

They were silent for a moment. 

“Are you…” began Rose.

“Do you…” said the Doctor at the same moment.

They both stopped, and Rose ducked her head down. 

“She, ah. It’s possible that she might, um, fancy me,” said the Doctor. “Martha, that is. Just a bit.”

“Ah,” said Rose, still looking down. “Well, naturally.” She started tracing a design in the dust with the toe of her boot.

“It’s my fault, really,” said the Doctor, staring straight ahead. He was determined to make a full confession of the matter. “I sort of…kissed her.”

“Of course you did,” she murmured. “Wait.” Rose’s head suddenly snapped up. “She’s not French, is she?”

“Um, no.”

“Hmmm.” She resumed making pictures in the dust.

“It wasn’t a real kiss though,” he assured her, turning toward her in the dark.

“‘Course not,” she agreed, perhaps a little too easily. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I explained to her, very clearly, that it was a genetic transfer,” he said quickly. “Just a genetic transfer, nothing more. I had to do it to distract the Judoon with traces of non-human DNA.”

Rose’s foot stopped moving. An odd silence settled over them. 

“You, um,” said Rose in a strange voice, “you told her it was a…genetic transfer?”

“Yes!” said the Doctor, nodding his head. “I was quite clear!” Then he paused, listening to the odd sounds coming from his companion. “Wait–are you laughing?” 

“No,” said Rose, but then another set of snickers escaped her. “M’sorry,” she said, unable to contain it. 

“Why are you laughing?” demanded the Doctor, completely perplexed.

His confusion just seemed to fuel Rose’s amusement. She leaned back against the stone and laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Sorry,” she said again, sitting up and gasping a little. “It’s just that…genetic transfer…” Another snort of laughter filled the air.

“What about it?” asked the Doctor, getting a bit annoyed. 

“It’s just that…it sorta sounds like…the universe’s worst pick-up line!” Rose collapsed backwards again, still giggling.

“But…but…but…” stammered the Doctor.

Rose wiped her eyes. “Hey, baby,” she said in a deep voice, “you wanna come back to my place for a little…genetic transfer?” She clutched at her stomach in her mirth. “Reminds me of that time on–what was it called?” She snapped her fingers. “Ooh! The Bradlin Space Station! Forty-eight Century! We were having those drinks, the ones with the weird fruit in them, remember? And you went to go pay the tab, and that creepy blue alien came up to me, waggled his eyestalks, and asked if I wanted to go back to his lab and run some tests to see if our DNA was biologically compatible,” she snickered. 

The Doctor went a bit red. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered.

“‘Course you didn’t,” said Rose good-naturedly. “You meant, ‘hey, can I spit all over your face to distract some giant space rhinos?’” She shook her head. “Poor Martha,” she chuckled. “What she must have to put up with.”

The Doctor ran his thumb over the top of her hand. In the dark, he could just barely make out the contours of her face. “I miss you,” he said quickly, a hurried confession. “I…I think about you all the time.”

Rose stopped laughing. “Me too,” she said softly. She raised a hand and lightly traced the side of his face with her fingertips. “Every day.”

“And Martha’s wonderful, but she doesn’t replace you,” he hastened to add.

“Of course not,” she agreed, a smile lingering in her voice. “Just like all the tall, dark, and incredibly handsome men I work with everyday don’t replace you. Not even,” she said, tapping him lightly on the nose, “one little bit.”

He jerked back, just a little, and let out an indignant splutter. “Oi! Well, that’s just…”

She chuckled and leaned forward to press a quick, soft kiss to his lips to silence him. “I’m so glad you’re not alone,” she said seriously.

“Rose.” He leaned forward until their foreheads touched, and they both closed their eyes because it was enough, in this moment, just to be together, occupying the same space and breathing the same air once again. He knew he was going to have to give her up and that this moment of peace would fade into oblivion, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. 

_This is who I am_ , he heard a voice echo in his head.  _All that counts is here and now, and this is me._  

He could get behind that sentiment.

Out loud, he said, “I don’t want to let you go.”

“You and me, spending eternity in a rock quarry,” she agreed. “Mind, it’s not the most comfortable of spots.”

“Might get a bit dusty,” he allowed. 

“And noisy.”

“And hot.”

“And there’ll probably be loads of workers come morning,” she said with a grin. “They might object to us staying here.” 

“Fair point. So…we’ll move.”

She pulled back, and he thought she was going to protest, but she just looked into his eyes, replacing the touch of her skin with the intimacy of her gaze. “And where would we go, Doctor?” she asked softly. 

“Anywhere,” he said in a hushed, wondrous whisper. “Anywhere you want.”

This time, she really did start to withdraw, and he clutched her tighter. “Or maybe just up there,” he said, nodding toward a nearby grassy hill, just outside the bounds of the quarry. “Please, Rose.”

She was silent for a long moment. “Rose,” he begged, reaching up to cup her face. 

And then, so quietly he almost didn’t believe his ears: “Alright.” 

He leapt to his feet and pulled her up with him, ready to take off running before she changed her mind, but she stopped him and picked up her satchel, fishing out her torch. He winced as she shouldered it–it was a tangible reminder that she was leaving, and that was the last thing he wanted to think about.

They started walking, hand in hand, and the moment felt strangely solemn and heavy, and so very unlike them. The Doctor glanced over at Rose, just visible in the light of her torch. Was she all right with this? She glanced back at him, and a smile crept across her face. He smiled back, and she squeezed his hand. 

Almost as one, their face lit up, as it occurred to both of them that they were, at long last, moving in the same direction, going somewhere  _together_ , and that…well, that was the best thing in the world.

“Rose,” said the Doctor in a gleeful whisper. “Run!”


	7. Chapter 7

_“Rose,” said the Doctor in a gleeful whisper. “Run!”_  
  
  
And that was all it took; they were running, running, running as fast as they could, laughing hysterically as they jumped and dodged and stumbled their way over loose stones and debris. They reached the base of a small rocky cliff; at the top of it, the hillside gave way to grass and trees and green, growing things. Too eager to get where they were going, they didn’t look for a way around it but just started climbing up, grappling for rough handholds and slipping on the loose shale.  
  
The Doctor took advantage of his longer frame. “I am so going to get to the top before you,” he teased, swinging himself up ahead of her.  
  
“Oh, the hell you are,” she mock-growled as she scrabbled up the rock as fast as she could, and it was a testament to Torchwood’s training that she was gaining on him. The Doctor grinned at her over his shoulder and was distracted enough by her progress to miss a handhold–he slipped and slid down a little, catching himself just in time to stop a more serious fall. Rose took advantage of this and put on an extra burst of speed, until they were neck and neck.  
  
“Doctor,” she said, panting with effort, “d’you know what apes are particularly good at?” She grinned at him, catching her tongue in her teeth. “Climbing!” She pushed off an extra-sturdy foothold and pulled ahead of him.  
  
“Rose,” he called up to her, “do you know what Time Lords are particularly good at?”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
He grabbed hold the back of her jacket. “Cheating!” he cried, pulling her down as he scrambled up over the top of her.  
  
“Oi!” she shouted, but it was too late; he was at the top, climbing up over the edge, and laughing and grabbing her hands to pull her up after him. She fell forward on top of him in a tangle of limbs.  
  
“That was just shameful, that was,” she scolded, still breathing hard from the effort. His only reply was an amused chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulled her closer.  
  
“Oh, no,” she said, twisting out of his arms. “You’re clearly not to be trusted, and I’m not having a cuddle with anyone I can’t trust. At least,” she added, hopping up, “not on the edge of a cliff.” She stepped over his prone body and glanced back down at him, arching an eyebrow. “Coming?”  
  
He was on his feet with truly astonishing speed.  
  
They hiked a bit farther up the hill, hand in hand, until by tacit agreement, they stopped. “Sorry,” said the Doctor as he shucked off his coat and lay it down. He cast an apologetic glance at the grass. “It’s not very apple-y. Still, it’s a nice spot to…” Then he looked up at her and fell strangely silent.  
  
Rose stood on the other side of his jacket and waited. “What?” she asked after a moment.  
  
The Doctor swallowed, his eyes dark. “It’s just…” he said roughly, “I look for you. Everywhere. Everywhere I go, Rose, I look for you, and you aren’t there.” It was said simply, without blame, but Rose still felt a tear in her heart. “And now, here you are.” His voice took on an air of wonderment. “Standing right in front of me. Shining in the moonlight.”  
  
Rose smiled slowly. “Here I am,” she agreed and slipped her blue leather jacket off, dropping it on the ground next to his. The air was cool, but the goose bumps on her flesh had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his eyes lingered on her bare shoulders.   
  
She glanced down at the space between them, at his jacket making both an invitation and a barrier. She ran her tongue over her upper lip. “So, Doctor,” she said with a bit of a challenge in her voice, “you gonna cross the void and come get me, or what?”  
  
And before it was all the way out, before she could add a come-hither gesture, he was there, his fingers cupping her jaw and his mouth covering hers.  
  
It wasn’t tentative; he wasn’t asking for permission with this kiss. This was kicking-down-the-door, carpe diem, about-bloody-time kissing, and Rose didn’t bother trying to stifle the startled sounds of approval coming out of her own mouth and sliding into his.   
  
The transition between standing in the moonlight and lying down on his coat was surprisingly swift. One corner of her mind wondered if it was just her own faulty perception or if he really was doing strange things with time. Then he tugged her shirt free of her trousers and snaked a hand up her ribs, and rational thought officially left the building.  
  
They tousled, pulling and struggling to shed clothes, her hands fumbling on the knot of his tie as he yanked on the zipper of her boot. There was no shyness, no coy pretending–they both knew that this was a stolen moment, out of time, ripped by force out of the cruel grasp of the universe.  
  
Neither one of them was going to waste it.  
  
He was speaking, Rose thought, muttering, though it was hard to make him out over the rushing of blood in her ears. She reached a hand down to tip his head up from where he had his lips pressed over her pounding heart.  
  
“Wha?” she breathed.  
  
He nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck, close enough to her ear that she could hear him reciting a litany of places and times, a list of their lives apart.  
  
“New York, 1930, and the bloody Daleks again,” he murmured and then ran his tongue over her collarbone. “The Castolaren Moon Colony, 4522–you’d have loved it, chips the size of small dogs.” He lifted her arm and pressed a line of kisses from her wrist to her elbow, still speaking softly, placing the words like memories against her skin.  
  
“Doctor,” she said, interrupting him. When he raised his eyes to meet her, she whispered, “I see you everywhere, too.”  
  
With a broken sound of want, he moved to cover her body and kissed her like he could drink the essence of her from the pool of her mouth. And when they came together, she thought that they weren’t so much making love as drowning in it, pulled by the inexorable force of need into perfect, glorious unity.   
  
***   
  
Afterwards, they lay curled into one another, savoring this rare moment of peace. But once the heat of passion had faded, the combination of the night air and her own sweat chilled her; she started to shiver. When she moved to reach for her clothes, however, the Doctor leaned over and handed her his jacket.   
  
“Here you are,” he said lightly, wondering if she would play along, wondering how long he could keep her from putting on her own clothes. How long he could keep her from leaving.  
  
He was, of course, something of a professional when it came to playing for time.  
  
Rose looked surprised but pulled it on and buttoned it up with a little chuckle. She fished around in the breast pocket until she found his glasses and put them on as well. She tilted her head at him. “So,” she asked with a sly grin, “how do I look?”  
  
He ran his eyes up her naked legs to where his jacket just teased the tops of her thighs and then up, up, up past the deep V of her barely-covered chest, all the way to her tongue-in-teeth smile. He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “There are no words,” he assured her.   
  
She laughed and tilted her head back, gazing up at the moon. Then she frowned, peering through his glasses. “Hang on, do these lenses even do anything?” She nudged them down the bridge of her nose and back again, testing.  
  
“Er,” said the Doctor.  
  
“You’re so daft,” she said, giggling. “They’re nothing but glass!”  
  
“That’s not true!” he protested. When she arched an eyebrow, he added, “They’re a very sexy fashion accessory.”  
  
“Mmm,” she said, humming in agreement. As she leaned over to toe on one of his trainers, she said, “I’m surprised. Thought you’d say they were for seeing complex patterns of causality beyond mortal thought. Eddies in the space/time continuum or something.”  
  
“Is he now?” the Doctor murmured, teasing, and she laughed again as she pulled on his other shoe.   
  
“I don’t know if those are quite as good a fit,” he commented.  
  
“A bit big,” she sighed, flapping the shoes together idly. “Figured I’d give ‘em a go, though. They tease me about that–Mickey and Jake. Pete, too, sometimes” she said. “Call me ‘Doctor’ when they’re trying to wind me up.” Her smile was a little rueful. After all, somebody had to be the Doctor, but, at the end of the day, the shoes were still hard to fill.  
  
The Doctor didn’t reply, just took her hand and squeezed it.  
  
“So,” he asked after a moment of silence,” are there really lots of tall, dark, handsome men working with you at Torchwood?”  
  
“Oh, loads,” she said, nodding seriously. “And I occasionally have to kiss them. For, y’know,” she said, waving a hand vaguely, “work purposes.”  
  
Peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, she broke into laughter at his outraged expression.   
  
“Oh, that’s just…” He rolled over and grabbed her around her waist, making her squeak. Pulling her down to the ground, he snatched the glasses off her face. “Cheeky, Ms. Tyler,” he finished. “Cheeky and rude, and that,” he said, placing a quick kiss on her lips, “is my job.”  
  
“Oh, my mistake,” she said, grinning up at him. But just as he was leaning in to kiss her again, she gasped and sat up suddenly, narrowing avoiding a collision with his forehead. “Oh! There was a shooting star,” she said, pointing upwards. “Big one, too.”  
  
“The Perseids,” said the Doctor, settling on his back with a sigh. “Resulting from debris from the Swift-Tuttle comet.”  
  
“So, not blown-up bits of an alien spaceship?” she asked, lying down next to him, shoulder to shoulder.  
  
“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Well, of course most of the shooting stars you see from it nowadays might be from a slight, very minor, extremely understandable…er, piloting error in 1862. Just a small, little collision, hardly worth mentioning. The TARDIS was tetchy about it for weeks, though.”  
  
She giggled. “Well, as long as it’s not dead aliens,” she said. “Or I’d feel guilty about enjoying the view.”   
  
They lay there together, quietly counting the falling stars.  
  
“How about we just stay here forever?” said the Doctor whimsically, tipping his head toward hers. “It’s nicer than the rock quarry.”  
  
She hummed in agreement, nuzzling against his forehead.   
  
“All eternity,” he murmured, taking her hand, “you and me, staring at the skies until the stars burn out.”  
  
In the darkness, he felt her flinch.  
  
“Rose, what is it?” he asked.  
  
She sat up. “Time I was going,” she said quietly. “I’ve stayed too long already.”  
  
“Rose,” he said, sitting up as well. “You don’t have to…”  
  
“Yes, I do.” She quickly unbuttoned his jacket and handed it back to him before starting to dress with a grim sort of efficiency.  
  
“Just because you’ve measured one set of timelines doesn’t mean that there aren’t alternates,” he argued, thrown off by her rapid mood change. “You could tell me, right now, and we’ll go and sort it, Rose. We always do.”  
  
 _And you could stay._  
  
She shook her head. “Can’t risk it,” she said bluntly. “Not with this.” She kicked off his shoes and yanked on her pants and trousers.  
  
“Rose,” he said softly, “you don’t have to be the Doctor.” He stroked a hand down her leg, and she paused, one of her boots in her hand.   
  
“No,” she whispered. “I have to be Rose Tyler.” She quickly pulled on her ankle boots and zipped them up. “See? They fit.”  
  
“Defender of the Earth,” he said in an uneven voice, wishing desperately that he could take back the title he’d given her.   
  
She knelt and pressed a quick, fierce kiss to his lips. “Sooner I go, the sooner I can come back,” she said firmly. “And Doctor, I am coming back.” She looked into his eyes. “I promise.” She gathered up his clothes and passed them to him. “Better get dressed, yeah?”  
  
He opened his mouth to argue, but something in her eyes, grim and tired, stopped him. Silently, he pulled his own symbols back on and wondered if they had always felt quite this heavy.  
  
Once he was presentable, they climbed back down to the quarry, slowly walking to the spot where he first saw her. She opened her bag and pulled out the tape deck and her jump remote. “S’time,” she said softly, flipping open a hidden panel on the ret-con device to reveal the controls. “Here, you activate it.” She pressed it into his hands.  
  
The Doctor took it from her and swallowed. “Rose, I never got to say,” he said quietly, reaching up his free hand to toy with her hair. “On the beach…”  
  
She quickly brought a hand to his mouth, pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Not yet,” she said, just a little desperately. “Not now. Wait until you can say it for keeps, all right? Until I get to stay.”  
  
Silently, he nodded, and she withdrew her hand. “Better that way,” she said.  
  
“But you know.”  
  
The answer was already in her shining eyes, but she gave it anyway: “Of course.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Rose nodded and then swallowed. “Right then,” she said roughly. “Just push the button, Doctor. It’ll take about two minutes to take effect.”  
  
He looked down at the tears swimming at the edge of her eyelashes and forced down his own sorrow and grief. She had been so brave for so long, and he decided that the last thing that his poor, precious girl needed was more guilt.   
  
She needed him to do this for her, and to do it right.  
  
So he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” he said, pasting on a little smile. “You sure this isn’t the kind of button that should never, ever, ever be pressed?” And only once the pained lines of her face broke apart, reforming in a smile, did he push it. The device hummed and a red beam shot out, scanning over his head, clicking. Then it switched itself off.  
  
“That’s it then,” said Rose softly as she took it back and tucked it into her pack. “Time for me to go.” She quickly programmed the jump on her remote. “Twenty second count-down.”  
  
He pulled her into a hug. “My Rose,” he whispered into her hair. “Have a good trip.”  
  
She laughed a little. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll…I’ll be back soon.”  
  
He tipped her head up to look into her eyes. “I’ll be waiting,” he said and bent to kiss her softly and gently until she faded from his arms.  
  
And only when he was alone, and the night seemed empty and broken once more, did he let his own tears fall, wiping them away slowly as he turned and walked back to the TARDIS.


End file.
